Sweet Sorrow
by vandiver49
Summary: T'Pol's going home *COMPLETE!!!*
1. So Hard to Say Goodbye

Sweet Sorrow (Chap 1)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.  
  
_________________________________  
  
After three years of exploration, the starship Enterprise was finally returning home. They had made many friends as well as a couple of enemies, but on the whole humanity's first steps into the galaxy at large had proven to be a success. Now it was time for everyone to go there separate ways, something Trip Tucker found a little difficult. He knew that he would probably see all of his friends again, with one exception; T'Pol. As Enterprise settled into orbit around Vulcan, he knew his time with her was fleeting. If someone would have told him when he signed up for this mission that some Vulcan chick would end up being one of his closet friends and the well of his affections, he'd have politely escorted them out the nearest airlock. But here he was, walking to the shuttlebay, silently mulling over his feelings for the departing Science Officer.  
  
Trip wasn't exactly sure when it happened, probably during one their arguments over warp core performance or maybe he was questioning her orders again, but the cause was irrelevant. What was relevant on that faithful day was inconceivable, especially to Trip. As T'Pol attempted to get him to see her point of view, he found himself focusing on her full lips, and how beautiful they were, instead of the words that were coming out. Shocked, Trip attempted to rein his clearly illogical thoughts in but it was too late. His mind continued to drink in T'Pol amazing countenance, from her big brown eyes to her cute little nose, from her perfectly cropped hair to those delectable elfin ears. Trip's daydreaming and vacuous expression only further irritated T'Pol, causing her to turn and storm off in disdain. "Damn, Malcolm was right." He thought. "She does have a nice butt." That's when Trip realized he was going out of his mind.  
  
That was over six months ago, and it only proceeded to get worse. Apparently, Cupid's arrows were warp capable. He also figured the chubby little tyke had a demented sense of humor. How else could anyone explain how he could have a crush on a Vulcan? Only fate could be so cruel. He knew that there was zero possibility of a relationship between them, other than the friendship that they had come to share. His love was simply a lost cause. Trip instead did what he thought anyone under similar circumstances would and concealed his feelings. He played his part flawlessly, purposefully antagonizing T'Pol every so often as to maintain the status quo of their friendship. But it was a difficult and painful part to play, providing him with several sleepless nights when he was 'out of character.' As the final days of Enterprise's maiden voyage drew to a close, Trip considered telling T'Pol how he felt about her, how much he loved her, how much she meant to him, but he simply couldn't bring himself to do so, knowing he wouldn't be able to bare her undeniable rejection. So he chose instead to remain silent, and to cherish the wonderful friendship they had. Trip finally reached the shuttlebay to find T'Pol in the midst of packing.  
  
"Hey T'Pol, you got all your stuff together?" He asked cheerfully.  
  
"Yes Commander, I believe so." T'Pol replied as she placed a final container into the shuttlepod. "I am simply waiting on my pilot, Lieutenant Mayweather."  
  
"Well you know I can fly ya down." Trip offered as he wasn't ready for him and T'Pol to part company.  
  
"Commander, after spending two years on Enterprise, it would be tragic irony for me to perish on decent to Vulcan."  
  
"Ha ha, very funny. You know my flyin' gotten better since we first met."  
  
T'Pol decided to graciously accept his offer. "Very well Commander, I will simply ensure that my harness is secure."  
  
"Careful T'Pol, someone might mistake you for a comedian." Trip smiled in response.  
  
Of all the friends T'Pol had acquired onboard Enterprise, she considered Trip her best. He was the one whom she opened up to and even confided in on several occasions. And while the two of them still engaged in heated discussions, their arguments had evolved into the cornerstone of their friendship. It was just how they related to each other. Trip even thought she was funny, a testament to her budding sense of humor. She had to admit that it was one bad habit that she wasn't entirely ashamed of. "Commander, I was hardly attempting to be humorous." But she was in no way about the give Trip the satisfaction of that knowledge. She was pleased though to be able to spend a few more moments with the Chief Engineer.  
  
As the two made their decent to Vulcan, Trip decided to strike up a final conversation. "So did you enjoying all of your going-away presents?"  
  
"Yes Commander, I am especially looking forward solving the 'Rubik's Cube' you gave me."  
  
"I'm sure you'll fair better than I did. The only way I could solve the damn thing was to cheat."  
  
T'Pol remained silent as she looked over towards Trip. She was definitely going to miss the way he made her inwardly smile.  
  
"So what do you plan to do now?"  
  
"I will be getting married tomorrow."  
  
The shuttlepod suddenly encountered some pilot-induced turbulence.  
  
"Careful Commander, I should very much like to arrive alive."  
  
Trip cringed as his actions conveyed his obvious distress over the news. "Sorry T'Pol, I was just a little shocked that's all." He replied, hoping she would believe it. "I mean, I figured you and Koss would be getting' together when you got back, but just not so soon."  
  
"Koss is no longer my betrothed." She said flatly.  
  
"Huh? What happened, if you don't mind me asking?"  
  
"He could no longer wait for my return."  
  
"Oh, I'm sorry. So who's the new lucky guy?" Trip inquired as the shuttlepod touched down on the surface."  
  
"I do not know. Being that my first marriage was terminated, my parents were forced to find another suitable mate. As such I lost to right to know who that would be."  
  
Trip suddenly felt somewhat guilty about the 'advice' he had given her a little over a year ago. "T'Pol did you know this might happen?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"So why didn't you come back when he asked for you?"  
  
"Because Commander, I did what I wanted to do. There is no action that goes without consequence, this just happens to be mine."  
  
Trip wanted to argue the merits of her logic on the subject on it but decided against it as his concern could reveal his true feelings.  
  
"Well he we are." Trip said as he powered down the shuttlepod. After removing the singular box that contained all of T'Pol's affects, it appeared as though the inevitable could no longer be delayed.  
  
"Well I guess this is goodbye." Trip said begrudgingly.  
  
Of all the words in the human language, goodbye lacked a literal translation in Vulcan. As T'Pol understood the word, it offered no hope of being together again, a final departure. Yet that was exactly what this was. It was curious that she could say farewell to the rest of the crew so easily, yet for some reason could not do the same for Trip. The thought of knowing that she would not be able to hear him laugh, gaze into his brilliant blue eyes or look upon his sandy blond hair was a concept she found truly distressing.  
  
"Commander, Enterprise is not scheduled to leave for another day and a half, would you like to attend my marriage?"  
  
Trip's eyes lit up. "I'd be honored to." His glee quickly evaporated away. "Wait, I don't wanna intrude or anything, I know how private Vulcans are about ceremonies and stuff."  
  
"One of the rights I still have is to invite whomever I so choose."  
  
"Great, well I'll just fly back to Enterprise and be back down tomorrow."  
  
"That will be unnecessary Commander. You may stay at my parents' domicile."  
  
"Oh no." Trip said as he flashed his hands in rejection. "Come on T'Pol, you could only manage staying on Enterprise because of your little nasal inhibitors. Messing with you is one thing, but there no way I'm offending your family with my smell."  
  
"I assure you Commander, your concern is unwarranted."  
  
"Alright T'Pol, don't say I didn't warn you."  
  
The two friends walked for several hundred meters as the sun set in distance. It was dusk by the time they reached T'Pol's home. Before knocking on the door, T'Pol turned to face Trip, sensing his increasing trepidation.  
  
"You must calm yourself Commander. You are placing more mental strain on this situation than is warranted."  
  
"Easy for you to say, I feel like I'm going before the Spanish Inquisition." Trip gave some serious consideration to reneging, simply walking back to the shuttle and camping out there for the night. But all hopes for a discrete retreat were dashed when the door opened to reveal T'Pol's parents.  
  
"Hello Mother, Father, I am home." 


	2. Meet the Parents

Sweet Sorrow (Chap 2)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the delay, some story can flow like water, while this one has had the viscosity of molasses. Therefore, I offer you two chapters for the price of one.  
  
Speech in Vulcan is between the *  
  
_________________________________  
  
Fight or Flight; that's the common name to the innate survival instinct embedded within every human being. And while evolution had given humanity the mental capacity to render this instinct obsolete, there existed numerous situations that still elicited such a response. For Commander Tucker, standing before the parents of T'Pol certainly constituted as one of those rare occasions. It wasn't like Trip was xenophobic, although he did harbor a certain distrust for most Vulcans. Regardless, his extreme level of discomfort was undeniable, as evident by his racing pulse and sweaty palms.  
  
*Good Evening T'Pol, your mother and I are pleased you have returned. Who is your human companion?* Her father asked, choosing to confront the awkwardness of the moment directly.  
  
"He is my friend. Mother, Father, this is Commander Charles Tucker III; Charles, this is my mother S'Ryn and my father Vasonn." T'Pol replied in English.  
  
"A pleasure to meet you." Trip said as he stepped forward to render the customary Vulcan greeting, bowing ever so slightly.  
  
As T'Pol's parents returned his gesture in kind, Trip couldn't help but notice what an imposing figure T'Pol's father was as he towered heavily over present company. S'Ryn was a sharp contrast by comparison, her diminutive stature and appearance bearing and uncanny resemblance to that of Ambassador V'Lar.  
  
"Father, I have invited Commander Tucker to my wedding tomorrow as well as shelter here for tonight." T'Pol stated. Trip watched as T'Pol stared her father down, almost as though she were daring him not to acquiesce to her wishes.  
  
"Very well T'Pol, your friend is welcome to stay." Vasonn said, the last word of his concession struggling to cross his lips. "We will be preparing for dinner shortly." He finished.  
  
Trip followed T'Pol across the threshold onto the shale floor and adobe walls of the remarkably spartan home; its interior as barren and dry as the desert landscape. T'Pol led him through what appeared to be the common area, to one of the few adjoining rooms.  
  
"You may sleep here tonight." She said while turning on the lights.  
  
Trip went and immediately sat on the bed, or what passed for beds on Vulcan as it gave marginally under his weight. "So whose room is this?"  
  
"It used to be my older sister's."  
  
"And I take it she moved out?"  
  
"Yes, she lives several kilometers from here with her husband and children." T'Pol answered somewhat reluctantly.  
  
Trip could tell from her response that he had just touched upon a sensitive topic and aptly decided to subject. "So, what's for dinner tonight?"  
  
T'Pol quickly sniffed the air to ascertain the answer. "If I'm not mistaken, it's Plomeek Soup."  
  
"I shoulda known." Trip derided as he rolled his eyes.  
  
"I must go help my mother prepare dinner Commander. I trust you can find you way to the dining table without assistance?" T'Pol asked before turning to leave.  
  
"Yea, I don't think I'll get lost."  
  
T'Pol left out and walked toward the kitchen, where her mother was putting the finishing touches on the soup.  
  
*Do you require assistance Mother?*  
  
*Yes, could you take those to bowls to the table for me.*  
  
As T'Pol reached for the bowls, S'Ryn decided to make her own inquires about tonight's dinner guest. *T'Pol, why have you invited this human to your wedding ceremony?*  
  
*I believe I introduced him to you earlier Mother." T'Pol answered, her voice containing the slightest hint of annoyance. *Besides, I invited him because it is my right to.*  
  
*Yes, it is your right to invite whomever you so choose, but you have neglected to invite your sister or any of your acquaintances here.*  
  
*Mother, you know as well as I that they would not have come even if I invited them.*  
  
*Perhaps, if you had returned to Vulcan when you were asked, you would not be in such a predicament.*  
  
T'Pol snatched the bowls up with mild irritation as there was no refuting her mother's harsh brand of logic.  
  
T'Pol initially walked evenly towards the table with a steadfast grasp on the bowls until she saw Trip, alone at the table with her father, their cold silence causing her to hasten her pace. She placed the two bowls in front of them and waited for her mother before sitting herself.  
  
With dinner finally served, the three Vulcans began their meticulous art of eating as Trip, never one to rebuke his mother's upbringing, knelt his head in prayer.  
  
*What is he doing?* Vasonn asked of his daughter.  
  
*He is praying Father.* T'Pol whispered back.  
  
*I told you that humans were still far too illogical for interstellar travel.*  
  
T'Pol chose to ignore her father's remarks, silently relishing the fact that his words were unintelligible to her friend.  
  
With his prayer complete, Trip's focus returned to that of the three Vulcans surrounding him, and the pale green broth that was supposed to pass as soup. He recalled prior dinners he had with Vulcans, and surmised that this one should be no different. T'Pol had commented on several occasions that Vulcans didn't engage in small talk, especially over dinner. With renewed confidence, Trip picked up the lone spoon and attempted to enjoy the marginally palatable meal. Unfortunately for the Chief Engineer, everything that had infuriated him about T'Pol during there first year together would prove not to be learned traits, but qualities she inherited from her father.  
  
"Commander Tucker, what exactly was your position on the Enterprise?" Vasonn asked.  
  
"Well sir, I'm currently the ships' Chief Engineer."  
  
"I image that you found the exploration of space quite monotonous, being that your ship could only travel at Warp 5."  
  
"No, we managed to get around quite nicely." Trip deftly replied, averting Vasonn's lightly veiled insult.  
  
"Will you be returning to Earth after leaving here?"  
  
"No, we have about a month and a half of exploring left before we finally make the turn for home."  
  
"So there will not be a Vulcan liaison for the final portion of your journey?" Vasonn asked, somewhat distressed.  
  
"Nah, I guess your High Command figures we can't cause too much trouble this close to home."  
  
*I cannot believe the High Command would actually let humans gallivant around the galaxy without our supervision.* Vasonn said to her daughter, in complete disregard to etiquette.  
  
*Father, I personally believe that humanity have proven themselves to be a very capable space-faring race.* T'Pol said in her ships' defense.  
  
Vasonn slowly rolled his gaze towards his daughter in what could only be described as astonishment. *That T'Pol is completely illogical. * He stressed. *You need but to simply recall the numerous mishaps and near disasters the Enterprise encountered during your own tenure. *  
  
S'Ryn finally decided to interject, breaking up her husband and daughter's bickering. "So Commander, where have your travels taken you?"  
  
"Well we've been to the Klingon Homeworld, Tandar, Risa and we're scheduled to visit Andoria when we leave here." Trip answered, wondering how long they were going to sit there and ignore him.  
  
"Why is the Enterprise going to Andoria?" Vasonn asked as this plucked a major discord within him. "Are you not aware of the paranoia and suspicion that's grips most Andorians. They are an extremely dangerous race."  
  
"Yes, we are aware that they stay paranoid most of the time." Trip said sternly, the tension in the room steadily rising. "But that doesn't make them any more or less dangerous than the other two-dozen races we've encountered in the past two years. Besides, they invited us, seeing as how we've help them out of some sticky situations once or twice."  
  
"Situations like the one you created at P'Jemm?" Vasonn directly accused.  
  
Though slightly flustered, Trip still managed an equally trained response. "We didn't create that particular situation. It was one that was bound to escalate with or without our interference."  
  
*See, even after two years, they fail to understand the integral aspects and complex nuances of interstellar diplomacy.* Vasonn said for all Vulcan ears, choosing once again to not even acknowledge the Chief Engineer's presence.  
  
T'Pol was but a breath away from dissenting with her father's caustic remarks, but Trip's patience was at an end. "You know Vasonn, while we humans might not be able to understand the integral aspects and complex nuances of interstellar diplomacy, we do know how to honor our treaties and give whom we are supposed to be aligned with the benefit of the doubt." He said, finally tipping his hand.  
  
His understanding captured the attention of all three Vulcans, but Vasonn refused to be assuaged from his train of thought. "The necessity of the listening post at P'Jemm is currently beyond your comprehension. If you were to expand your myopic perception beyond that of right and wrong, you would see that to ensure the safety of Vulcan as well as that of Earth, the monitoring of Andorian movements was the only logical recourse."  
  
Trip could see that this was but a minor aspect of the true point of contention and decided to confront it directly, replacing his spoon back on the table. "Let's be honest here Vasonn; do you have a problem with humanity in general, or just me?"  
  
"Both." He said bluntly. "Humans presume to think that they are all knowing and ready to take on the galaxy just because you have the capability of warp drive. You have no idea what awesome responsibility comes with being able to travel amongst the stars. And while I have several misgivings about humanity as a whole, you seem to embody them all."  
  
Vasonn appeared as though he was about to commence into a running diatribe of all of his faults, but Trip had no intention of entertaining him. "You know what sir, you've said more than enough as well as everything I wanted to hear." He said rising from the table.  
  
"Where do you think you are going?" Vasonn questioned.  
  
"Look, you want me out of your house, I'll be more than happy to oblige you." Trip replied en route to his bedroom.  
  
During this entire transaction, T'Pol could do nothing but sit in shock and embarrassment. Of course these emotions weren't revealed on her face, but in her terse posture as she sat and the slight cant with which she held her head as her father hurled verbal barbs at her friend. Once she finally realized that Trip was about to leave, she quickly rose from her seat in pursuit.  
  
She entered the room just in time to witness Trip gather the last of his things. As he turned around to exit, T'Pol extended her arm in protest.  
  
"Out of my way T'Pol." He scowled.  
  
"Where are you going Commander?" She asked.  
  
"Anywhere but here would suit me just fine."  
  
"You cannot leave." T'Pol stated.  
  
"Give me one good reason why not?"  
  
"Because you do not know the location of my wedding."  
  
Trip was forced to resign to that fact and placed his bag down in defeat. "T'Pol, I told you this was a bad idea, what the hell did I do deserve that?"  
  
"I must confess that while this is the first time my father has met any member of the crew, he is well aware of the ship's missions, as well as some of your more noticeable exploits." T'Pol said as she now used her outstretched hand to invite Trip to sit on the bed.  
  
"OK, so he knows about me getting pregnant, whatever. I still don't see what I did to him personally." He said, accepting her invitation.  
  
"I believe his personal dislike of you stems from your indirect involvement in the termination of my first wedding." T'Pol explained. "He considers you to primary reason for my decision and therefore a negative influence upon me."  
  
"And you knew he felt like this about me?" Trip just barely waited for her nodding reply before rambling on. "Then why in the name of everything holy invite me here? I said I'd show for the wedding, why do this to me?"  
  
"Because Commander, tonight and tomorrow morning will be the last opportunity I will have to see you. I expected dinner to be more civil, but I apparently underestimated my father's ability to control his emotions. His age is rather advanced."  
  
"Fine T'Pol, what do you want me to do?" He conceded.  
  
"Stay the night, walk in my marriage procession tomorrow morning and attending my wedding. I can assure you that my father will not speak another word to you." T'Pol pressed.  
  
"Ok T'Pol, if it'll make you happy."  
  
"It will."  
  
Trip and T'Pol spent the rest of the night holed up in his room, reminiscing over the many adventures they shared. He finally let her know exactly what happened to him and Malcolm on their first excursion to Risa, much to her amusement. She solved the Rubik's cube Trip had given her with relative ease, but it did awaken a penchant for puzzles that had previously been untapped within her. As midnight rapidly approached, T'Pol struggled to convince Trip that it was time to turn in for the night.  
  
"C'mon T'Pol I'm not even tired yet."  
  
"Charles today has been a very taxing day. And tomorrow will be just as long for the both of us. Please try to get some rest." She coaxed.  
  
Trip was amazed by how soothing and calming T'Pol's even voice was, leading him to believe that he was more fatigued than he knew.  
  
"Alright T'Pol, I guess I'll see you in the morning. Goodnight."  
  
"Goodnight Commander, sleep well." She offered, turning off the lights as she left out. 


	3. The Fault of Fate

Sweet Sorrow (Chap 3)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.  
  
A/N: Sorry for the delay, some stories can flow like water, while this one has had the viscosity of molasses. Therefore, I offer you two chapters for the price of one. There isn't a lot of dialogue in this one, but I believe it's got lots of wonderful descriptions.  
  
Speech in Vulcan is between the *  
  
_________________________________  
  
The first sounds that greeted Trip as he awoke the following morning were not the singing birds or the rustling of leaves, but the sequential popping of almost every bone in his body. He was certain that he had just experienced the worst possible night of sleep in his life. The bed was only marginally softer than the floor and the unbearable desert heat forced him to sleep in nothing but his boxers. As opened his eyes to a new day, Trip thought that his blurred vision was watching Vulcan sun begin its daily ascent through the sky. But after clearing the sleep from his eyes, he realized that he was gazing upon something for more brilliant.  
  
"Good morning Commander." Greeted T'Pol.  
  
"Oh morning T'Pol, geez don't you know how to knock." He answered as he fumbled for his shirt. She of course was already dressed, wearing a magnificent red dress with a tantalizingly low neckline. He had never seen her wear anything so feminine and delicate before in her life. The only thing remotely Vulcan about her was the sash that was draped from her left shoulder, with three Vulcan characters woven into its threads.  
  
"You were sleeping, it seemed inappropriate to wake you."  
  
Trip didn't respond, his mind too preoccupied with how simply amazing she looked. He even briefly flirted with the idea what T'Pol might look like in a similarly white dress.  
  
"Commander." She asserted herself again.  
  
"Oh sorry T'Pol, I've just never seen you.well you know." Trip said, or at least tried to say, his hands expressing his minds frustration. "You look beautiful."  
  
"Thank you. I suggest that you hurry and get dressed, we will be leaving in fifteen minutes."  
  
"OK, I'll be ready in a sec."  
  
. . .  
  
Trip and T'Pol's family left as scheduled for her family's ceremonial grounds, each contemplating the gravity of this union. For Vasonn and S'Ryn it was the fulfillment of their daughter's destiny, one which they were unsure why she so vehemently evaded. T'Pol's thoughts were consumed by who her unknown betrothed was. To find an unbonded mate around her age was rather uncommon, leading her to she suspect the individual was very old or had a somewhat checkered background. Either way, the presence of her friend was doing little to lessen the overwhelming sense of imprisonment she felt this union held. For Trip, his mind was torn between his feelings for T'Pol and his fervent desire to get off of Vulcan. It was only divine grace that kept his from going off on T'Pol father and her pleading that kept him on the planet in the first place. Trip made silent vow to himself to be off this rock two minutes after the nuptials were exchanged.  
  
The walk to the grounds took almost twenty minutes, which in Vulcan's blazing heat made it feel like an eternity. When they arrived, five identically dressed Vulcan males were already there waiting. They all wore menacing black masks that concealed everything but their eyes, providing no one with any indication of whom the actual suitor was. Trip followed T'Pol and her family's lead and lined up across the others Vulcans waiting for; well he wasn't really exactly sure what they were on.  
  
Trip continued to survey the landscape, noting the semi-enclosed stone structure to his right and the trapezoid shaped metallic object hanging from its roof. To his left, beyond T'Pol and her parents, stood a sheer granite wall with six massive Vulcan glyphs chiseled onto its face. There were three on each side, apparently framing what from Trip's estimation must be the altar. And while He couldn't read a lick on Vulcan, he did recognize the text on the left as being identical to the ones T'Pol bore on her sash. Trip was about to make another keen observation when the faint sounds of bells in the wind caught his attention. Trip found that he was the only one searching for the direction from which the ringing emanated. His eyes trained to an opening just beyond the leftmost Vulcan male in their line abreast. He focused on that corner intently, waiting to see just what or whose arrival the bells were heralding.  
  
The answer was far different from what he expected as the first thing he saw was the curve of a blade, firmly attached to a long pole. The next objects to appear were the profiles of two Vulcan males, each mirror opposites in every way as they carried their weapons perfectly parallel to the desert floor. As the procession continued, it became apparent that the entourage was that of a person of great importance as the figure sat elevated in a carriage that rested upon the shoulders of the first two Vulcans. Trip then gazed upon the source of the chimes, two Vulcan women who walked in tandem by the immediate side of the precariously perched chair, the bells they carried ringing with their every step. Two more Vulcan males were charged with tending the rear of the carriage and made up the end of the elaborate parade. If this was anything like the weddings he was accustomed to back home, Trip surmised, the person riding on high must be the priest.  
  
As the attendants placed the carriage down in front of the stone face, Trip was finally able to make out the person's feminine form even though her body was shrouded in robes. As the woman surveyed the parties in attendance, her attention was immediately drawn to Trip, his uniform causing him to stand out amongst the sparse crowd.  
  
*T'Pol of Vulcan, since when are our traditions and ceremonies made privy for outsiders to see?*  
  
T'Pol stepped out of the line to make her address. *T'Lau, he is not an outsider, but my friend. He attends today's ceremonies at my request.*  
  
*Very well. * T'Lau answered. *He who is to be mated with T'Pol, step forward and make thyself known.*  
  
The second Vulcan from the end walked out of the line to a point directly in front of T'Pol.  
  
*T'Pol on Vulcan, know the face of thine mate.* T'Lau decried.  
  
T'Pol took her arms and wrapped them around the head of the man in front of her, fishing for the knot of his mask. As she fiddled with the intricate bond, T'Pol's gaze remained locked on her future mate. She studied his eyes intently, noticing a disturbing familiarity they held within. With but a few turns remaining in the yoke, she watched in confusion as creases and lines crept upon his face, particularly near the corners of his eyes. It was not something completely alien to her, but it was a feature she'd only seen amongst her crew as their faces contorted to comply with their facial expressions. With the knot thoroughly undone, T'Pol slowly let the mask drop; finally allowing her to see the true face of the man she was destined to spend the rest of her life with. It was a face that pierced the very core of her emotional control, causing her to gasp in shock and terror as it smiled back at her. The face of the man was one she had known, and desperately thought she would never encounter again. Her voice suddenly horse, she breathlessly whispered his name;  
  
*Tolaris?!* 


	4. Forever Hold Your Peace

Sweet Sorrow (Chap 4)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.  
  
Speech in Vulcan is between the (*)  
  
_________________________________  
  
  
  
*Hello T'Pol, It is good to see you as well.* Tolaris smiled, obviously reveling in the former science officer's shock.  
  
*What are you doing here?* T'Pol meekly inquired. *Were you not banished from Vulcan?* She continued, amazed that no one else in attendance had taken notice of Tolaris' jovial demeanor.  
  
*Quite the contrary T'Pol, only you and a handful of others are fully aware of that aspect of my life. To my family and most others, I departed Vulcan under far nobler auspices.* Tolaris explained, his grin finally diminishing. *Once I learned of your unfortunate predicament, I felt obligated to return and ensure that you were bonded to a suitable mate.*  
  
As T'Pol struggled to regain her composure and calm her emotions, there was one thing of which she was certain. *I will not marry you.*  
  
Tolaris probably would have laughed at her pithy reply, but instead chose to display a small measure of Vulcan decorum. *Seriously T'Pol, what other logical recourse do you have? *He watched as T'Pol's eyes danced back and forth across the Vulcan men behind him. *They will not have you T'Pol, no one will. While your intrepid nature has helped you excel through the rank of the Vulcan High Command, it has had the unfortunate consequence of diminishing your status as a mate.* He continued, extending his arm graciously as though he was sympathetic to her dilemma. *Accept this fate T'Pol; you have no other options. *  
  
T'Pol could only close her eyes in response as Tolaris walked triumphantly towards the stone gazebo, ready to claim his prize. Regardless of how much she opposed it, her Vulcan mind could not deny the bitter truth of his logical words. She was all but ready to admit defeat when, out of the corner of her eye she saw Commander Tucker, rocking up and down on the balls of his feet.  
  
Desperately, T'Pol charged the quarried enclave, consumed with renewed confidence. With hammer in hand, Tolaris was but a stroke away when T'Pol decried her ancient right.  
  
"Ka-li-fee!" She exclaimed, to the amazement of all in attendance. She would have preferred the opportunity to logically analyze her decision, but time was fleeting, forcing her to rely on a very human concept; hope.  
  
*T'Pol, you have chosen the challenge. Are you prepared to become the property of the victor?* T'Lau inquired. A simple nod was the only answer she offered. *Very well, then choose thy champion.*  
  
T'Pol stepped down from the bell house and walked methodically down the middle of the two columns of guests. *Just as my ancestors before me, I now make my decision. I choose him.* She proclaimed, turning and pointing to one human engineer.  
  
Whispers began to rattle and rise from the canyon floor, as Vulcans were stunned by T'Pol's decision. She was about to go the Commander's side to offer him some reasonable explanation when Tolaris violently grabbed her arm, capturing her attention.  
  
*You have succeeded in nothing but condemning this human to death.* He scathed. T'Pol wrenched herself free of his clutches and briskly walked to her champion.  
  
"T'Pol, what the hell is going on?" He asked in frantic confusion. "What is a challenge and what possessed you to point me?"  
  
With time of the essence, T'Pol searched for a succinct answer. "Commander, is there not a part in human weddings where the union of two people may be contested?"  
  
"Well, yeah there is."  
  
"I have enacted the Vulcan equivalent, the Ka-li-fee, but I require your assistance." T'Pol elaborated.  
  
"That would be the whole champion part right?"  
  
"Yes." She said reticently. "As my champion, you are required to fight for my honor."  
  
"Fight? For what, I don't even understand why you challenged him in the first place?" Trip obtusely replied. He definitely wasn't making this any easier for her.  
  
"Do you not recognize him?" She asked, sure that everyone on Enterprise was aware of the mental assault that Tolaris had inflicted upon her during their first year in space.  
  
"No T'Pol; of course not. It's not like I have a plethora of Vulcan friends. Am I supposed to?" It was obvious from Trip's ignorance that Captain Archer had maintained his word, keeping the violation a secret.  
  
"Trip, three years ago, that man came aboard Enterprise and." T'Pol paused momentarily; the memory of that transgression still painfully vivid. "And raped me." That simple fact would prove to be all the motivation Trip needed.  
  
As the friends conversed, two of T'Lau's guardsmen walked up the desert road, placing their weighted battleaxes on the ground before the two combatants. T'Pol moved from in front of Trip, allowing him to advance on his weapon, the ancient lirpa, his counterpart following suit. Both men knelt down to retrieve their pikes, eyeing each other cagily as they waited for the signal to start.  
  
With weapon in hand, Trip was overcome with an unnerving revelation. Hand- to-Hand combat wasn't his forte, but he always believed he could hold his own. Of course that was in more ideal conditions, against a far less alien opponent. He was fully aware of how much stronger T'Pol was than him. How was he supposed to beat this guy?  
  
Trip followed Tolaris' eyes as they turned back towards T'Lau, waiting for the inevitable start. A flick of the priestess' wrist caused Tolaris to charge with murderous rage, forcing Trip to recoil into a defensive posture. The raking sound of metal against metal echoed throughout the canyon as Trip desperately tried to hold his ground. The two exchanged several strikes as they jousted back and forth. But with every clash of steel, Trip was slowly losing ground. Try as he might, Tolaris' strength was overpowering him, his feet leaving receding tracks on the scorched earth. With no other recourse, Trip parried Tolaris to the left, causing the Vulcan to stubble forward from his own momentum.  
  
Trip was only afforded a brief respite as Tolaris quickly recovered, lunging at him with the butt of his lirpa. The Vulcan's aim was true as it hit Trip squarely in the chest. The vicious blow caught Trip off guard, causing him to drop him weapon as he doubled-over in pain. Tolaris was unrelenting as Trip winced in agony, felling the Chief Engineer with an overhand blow to his back. Tolaris stood confidently over to his opponent as he flipped his weapon over, the blade of his pike looming dangerously close.  
  
The brilliant rays of the Vulcan sun reflected of the curve of Tolaris' blade, temporarily blinding Trip's vision. But the radiance also alerted the human to the impending danger as the Vulcan prepared to cleave Trip's head from body. Trip instinctively dropped to his chest and rolled clear, Tolaris' swing cutting through nothing but the desert air.  
  
The Chief Engineer struggled to rise to his feet, clutching his ribs in the process. He was sure they were broken, though he was uncertain of the number. Each breath was more labored than the last, his tortured lungs straining for oxygen in the thin atmosphere.  
  
T'Pol looked on helplessly as her friend attempted to fight for her freedom. This was hardly the way she had intended on them spending their final moments together. But as T'Pol watched the guardsmen exchanged the arms of the two warriors, a needle of concern slowly crept into her conscience. Something in her mind had compelled her to view Commander Tucker as a viable answer to her dilemma. But it was painfully clear that her solicitation of his aid was an egregious error. Obviously, the thought of being bonded to Tolaris had resulted in a momentarily lack of judgment. It was this lapse that had also caused T'Pol to omit one very important detail to Trip; that the Ka-li-fee was a fight to the death.  
  
Back in the dusty arena, Trip had managed to stay on his feet long enough to accept the new weapon proffered to him by T'Lau's attendant. He grasped the tanned leather coils of the whip in his hand, keeping one eye on Tolaris all the while. While he wasn't ready to reengage the Vulcan, he had no choice as Tolaris was bolting towards him again. Once more Trip dodged his assault, but Tolaris was prepared for Trip's elusiveness. Stopping a few steps short of the Chief Engineer, Tolaris cracked his whip, its tail wrapping around Trip's right arm. With a moderate tug on Tolaris' part, Trip's body went sailing though the air. An audible pop accompanied the resounding thud as his body crash back to earth. He cried out in agony, his synapses announcing the separation of his shoulder.  
  
Once again Trip found himself face down in the dirt, but this time in considerably more pain. His body bordered on shock as he looked through the cloud of dust at the approaching figure. His mind flirted with the idea of simply giving up, but he instantly dismissed it. He would put his body through sheer hell if it meant that T'Pol would safe. He tried to get up once more, but his arm simply wouldn't comply, hanging lifelessly from his body. What he needed was a plan, some way to account for the physical advantage that Tolaris had over him. Oddly enough, his inspiration would rise from the dust that was slowly collecting in his cupped palm.  
  
It was a risky move, but he was desperate. As Tolaris neared, Trip flung a clump of dirt in his eyes, obscuring his sight. Summoning what little energy he had left, Trip lunged for Tolaris' shoulder. Though temporarily blinded, the Vulcan was undaunted by this move, catching Trip easily in his arm. This though, was simply according to plan. With all the force he could muster, Trip lifted his leg, crushing the outside of Tolaris' knee with his foot.  
  
Now it was Tolaris' turn to scream in agony, as muscle and sinew were torn asunder. Trip was now holding the Vulcan up, his body slowly beginning to crumple in his grasp. Unrelenting, Trip continued his assault, striking Tolaris' nose with the butt of his palm. The blow immediately overwhelmed Tolaris' senses, rendering him unconscious. Exhausted, Trip dropped his burden, the crimson dust enveloping the Vulcan as landed on the ground. Trip collapsed to his knees as well, stunned by his improbable victory. But the stillness that was Trip's reverie would soon be broken by the intonation of a Vulcan priestess.  
  
*Kill him. * T'Lau exclaimed. Stunned, Trip squinted his eyes at her in obvious confusion. *The Ka-li-fee is a duel to the death. You must kill him in accordance with our tradition. * The priestess expounded.  
  
'To the death?' Trip questioned himself silently as he once again rose to his feet. He could feel his ire boiling within him once again as the question replayed itself in his mind. The metallic tinge of adrenaline began to lace his palette as he shot T'Pol a scathing look.  
  
"To the death?" He asked aloud to T'Pol, his words barely above a whisper. She offered a lowly nod in response, but the apologetic look in her eyes did little to assuage Trip's raising anger. "How in the hell is that logical?!" He screamed, the rage in his voice echoing up off the canyon walls. "Why the hell didn't you tell me?!"  
  
To this T'Pol had no answer.  
  
. . .  
  
A/N: It took me awhile to get this right for one very important reason; science fact versus science fiction. Yea sure, we all know that Vulcan is a planet that's high in gravity but low in atmosphere. The problem is that atmosphere is a function of gravity. Places with high G's like Earth and Venus high accordingly dense atmospheres, while Mars and The Moon, which are 1/3 and 1/6 of Earth's gravity respectively, are relatively thin. Anyway I just chose to express Trip's disadvantage to Vulcan's gravity in Tolaris' strength. It still made for a difficult fight scene. I hope I didn't offend any of you die hard trekkers.  
  
A/N: If you have any disagreements with my stories and you illuminate them in your reviews, please be kind enough to leave your email addy, I'll be more than happy to respond. 


	5. Slay the Vulcan, Get the Girl

Sweet Sorrow (Chap 5)  
  
By vandiver49  
  
Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters associated with Star Trek, I'm just borrowing them for a moment. Please don't sue; people in the Navy don't make that much money.  
  
Speech in Vulcan is between the (*)  
  
Hey, gotta thank my BETA reader Stubadingdong for making my final chapter intelligible for the readers.  
  
_________________________________  
  
  
  
Trip managed to walk his beaten and battered body back to the shuttlepod, his skin scorched by the searing heat of the midday sun. His uniform was soiled by dust, sweat and blood, a testament to his hard fought victory. Limbs and joints screamed out in pain with every step as he finally opened to shuttlepod door. His mind was consumed with a single thought; getting off this God-forsaken rock. And while he found himself unwilling to kill Tolaris, he was pretty sure that he could strangle the life out of T'Pol.  
  
'You know, I think if someone were going to fight in a life and death struggle for my very being, I probably let 'em. I mean, just as a professional courtesy,' Trip thought flippantly as he stepped through the hatch, searching for the first aid kit.  
  
After fumbling through the darkness in vain, he finally turned on the interior lights, which instantly revealed the kit's location. He hastily initiated the shuttle's pre-flight start up, quickly finding relief from the sweltering heat in the vehicle's air conditioned atmosphere. Trip made his way back to the threshold with every intention of tending to his wounds. But as he sat down on the ledge of the hatch, his exhausted body collapsed back on the metallic floor.  
  
Trip had no idea how long he'd been sleep before he finally awoke, his only indication being the Vulcan sun's steep declination from its zenith, well into the daily descent towards the horizon. Attempting to regain his bearings, he quickly located the med kit as the pain in his shoulder quickly returned. But as he went to open the case, he was shocked to find T'Pol dutifully kneeling just outside the door.  
  
"What are you doing here?" Trip demanded capriciously.  
  
Not surprisingly, she offered no response.  
  
He tried to ignore her, returning his attention back to the medical kit and the pain killers located within. But her form remained in his periphery as attempted to load the hypospray with his one good arm. Frustrated by his futility, Trip whipped his head back around to T'Pol.  
  
"If you're just gonna sit there, at least help me reset my arm," Trip requested.  
  
T'Pol rose gracefully to tend to his shoulder.  
  
"OK, on three," Trip directed, taking calming breaths in anticipation of the unavoidable pain. "One.two."  
  
SNAP!!!  
  
For the third time today, Trip's screams pierced the Vulcan desert.  
  
As the pain gradually subsided, Trip looked at the Vulcan in annoyance. "What part of 'on three' didn't you understand?" he asked, slowly massaging the relocated joint.  
  
"I only did as you wished Commander," she replied dispassionately.  
  
"You're supposed to wait until I said three," he reiterated.  
  
"But Commander, would that have not been a count of four?" she contested.  
  
Trip just shook his head in resignation as he turned his attention back to his other wounds. But his eyes betrayed him once more as they wandered back towards T'Pol, who was kneeling once again.  
  
"OK T'Pol, what gives?" Trip asked in obvious confusion.  
  
"I am fulfilling the treatise of the Ka-li-fee," she replied. "I believe the accurate human assessment would be 'to the victor go the spoils.'"  
  
"And you are the spoils?"  
  
"After a fashion. I am your property to be precise, or your wife, if you prefer," T'Pol meekly announced, the last sentence rolling off her tongue with uncharacteristic ease. The thought of being attached to this human in a permanent fashion warmed her soul in a most illogical way.  
  
"My what!?" he asked in wide-eyed disbelief, knowing full well that he had heard T'Pol perfectly.  
  
"Your wife," she repeated, her eyes suddenly wrapped in Trip's countenance as she looked up at him through her lashes.  
  
It was a disarming pose as Trip could feel his seething anger melted away from her gaze. He strove to retain his aggression, but for the past six months, T'Pol's big brown eyes somehow had a soothing effect on his psyche. "Get up T'Pol."  
  
T'Pol gracefully rocked onto the balls of her feet, and with her hands on her knees, pushed herself upright.  
  
"Look T'Pol, I don't own you. Like I told you before, humans did away with that form of servitude centuries ago," he said, choosing to address the first part of her proposition.  
  
Normally, T'Pol would have countered Trip's remark by stating how steeped in tradition Vulcan mating rituals were. But seeing how his humanity had just granted her freedom, she instead decided to graciously accept his generosity. "Thank you Commander," she said, sitting next to him on the ledge.  
  
The latter half of T'Pol's statement proved to be a little more difficult to circumnavigate for Trip, as part of him did prefer the idea of her as his wife. But it was a misguided indulgence, as the union was one of circumstance. The only way he could ever truly love T'Pol as his wife was through her own willingness. "Besides, I know I'm the last guy you would ever wanna be married to," he added jokingly.  
  
T'Pol chose not to contest his analysis.  
  
As his bitterness and contempt for the situation subsided, Trip was still left with one burning question. "T'Pol, why didn't you tell me it was to the death?" he asked as he turned to face her.  
  
She knew he would ask, he had every right to. But the anticipation of his question in no way prepared her to respond. "I was.afraid," she answered hesitantly.  
  
"Afraid of what?" Trip inquired further.  
  
"Afraid that if you were aware of the seriousness of the matter, that you would not have elected to be my champion," she confessed. T'Pol knew her answer was weak, knew that she had been weak for even involving him so intimately in her life.  
  
Trip desperately wanted to understand her position, but he couldn't, based on one distinct possibility. "T'Pol, what if he had killed me?"  
  
"I do not know," she conceded.  
  
The two sat in familiar silence as the day slowly began to give way to dusk. T'Pol's mind struggled for a logical answer to Trip's query, but to no avail. Discouraged, she decided to distract herself with something purely un-Vulcan; idle conversation.  
  
"Commander, I was unaware of the fact that you were fluent in Vulcan."  
  
"I not," Trip admitted. "I just know what people are sayin'. I can't speak a lick of it."  
  
"Surely you know one or two phrases."  
  
"Oh no you don't," he warned her. "The last time you pleaded with me to do something, I pissed off your father and I ended up with three broken ribs. Besides, with my accent, I'm murder on Vulcan vocabulary. Surely you don't wanna hear that?"  
  
"Yes." She simply stated.  
  
Trip decided to acquiesce, but he was at a loss of what to say. While he was remarkably adept in understanding Vulcan, speaking it was an entirely different matter. As he silently thumbed his way through the handful of Vulcan phrases in his mind when he was struck with a daring idea. It would be wonderfully simple, yet quite poignant.  
  
Swallowing his pride, Trip turned slowly towards T'Pol, looked her straight in the eyes and spoke. "Ashau nash-veh du."  
  
T'Pol's response was immediate, his words causing her to cringe visibly. She should have assumed that his first words to her in Vulcan would be the most illogical ones in her language.  
  
"I told you my accent was horrible," Trip joked, fully aware of the real source of T'Pol's discomfort.  
  
"How long have you felt this way about me?" she asked.  
  
"For about six months now," Trip responded. "Look T'Pol, I didn't mean for this to happen, it just kinda did," he expounded, but his explanation did little to placate the perplexed expression that adorned her face.  
  
To her credit, T'Pol quickly regained her composure from Trip's unsolicited admission. "Why would you allow yourself to indulge in such a concept?"  
  
"It's love T'Pol. It's not bound by logic and reason," Trip retorted, assuming that she was challenging the emotion.  
  
"That was not what I was referring to. What is illogical is how you could fall in love with someone who is incapable of reciprocating the feeling?" T'Pol said despondently.  
  
"How do you know you're incapable of love?"  
  
"Because I am Vulcan, Commander," T'Pol countered sternly. "If we were to engage in a relationship, I would never be able to return your affection in kind."  
  
"I know that T'Pol, but that's something I can accept. It's no different from when you asked me to be your champion. It just requires a little faith. Just give me a chance," Trip replied, undaunted by her response.  
  
His stubbornness was leaving T'Pol little recourse. She desperately wanted him to understand the impossibility of a relationship. It wasn't that she didn't appreciate all that he had done for her and she cared a great deal for him. But what he proposed was at too great a cost. Did he truly understand what he was asking of her?  
  
"On the contrary Commander, while there existed a slim possibility of you defeating Tolaris, the chances of me ever loving you are far more remote," T'Pol challenged, but her statement was inaccurate. The possibility did exist, but only at the expense of her very being.  
  
In that split second before she continued, T'Pol realized that Trip had risked his very life for her. Was what he asked of her really that much of a sacrifice?  
  
Yes.  
  
She chose to stay her present course, knowing full well how her monologue would be received as she stood up. "Will you love me, when I don't respond to your kisses, or when I shy away from your touch? Could your love endure knowing that you will never see me smile or hear me laugh? Do you believe that I could ever truly be content?" T'Pol said, aware of the callousness of her tone. She watched as Trip bent his head woefully, her words slowly sinking in.  
  
Trip knew she was right. This very conversation had played in his dreams on several occasions, but none were as painful as this. He silently chuckled to himself as he realized the obviousness of the truth.  
  
His laughter proved to be a source of confusion for the former science officer, for laughing was an acknowledgement of something funny. But she was hard pressed to finding any humor in the current situation, or her words.  
  
"Commander, why are you laughing?"  
  
Trip looked up into her face out of the corner of his eye, her expression one of genuine bewilderment. To him it was just another source of amusement to add to his mounting self-deprecation. What in the hell was he thinking admitting his true feelings to her? To even harbor any sort of emotions for her in the first place? It was asinine thing to do, completely stupid and undeniably human.  
  
"Don't worry about it T'Pol, you wouldn't get it. Besides you've already made it pretty clear that you want nothing to do with me and my emotions."  
  
He was closing her off. After so many years it appeared that their friendship was coming to an end, and the blame was completely hers. She had knowingly chosen to hurt her friend, all in an attempt to save herself. She leaned over and placed a well intentioned hand on his good shoulder, with the sincerest hope of offering him some small measure of comfort.  
  
She intended to simply kiss him on the top of his head, to somehow atone for the grief she had caused him during the last day and a half. As she bowed her head down towards the crown of his, she closed her eyes, expecting her lips to pass through several strands of hair before they arrived at their intended destination. But what she encountered was far more sensual.  
  
T'Pol was sure that he couldn't see her approach. The probability of him actually looking up at her was relatively slim she deduced. But that was exactly what he did. She stood in wide-eyed disbelief as electricity coursed through her body as their lips met. Logically, she should have pulled away, as she had intended on only proffering a chaste consolation. But the lip-lock persisted and deepened into something more. She reasserted her position, engaging his lips once more in fevered passion as her arm traveled down his body. She was inexorably drawn closer as his arm traveled up her form. Her skin was set ablaze as he cupped the flare in her hips, the arch of her back and the curve of her chest. It was a level of passion that she had only experienced in her dreams, and it was every bit as damning.  
  
She needed to free herself, but her body remained steadfast in its indulgence, as his hand gently caressed her face. His fingers slowly began to creep back towards her ear, causing her to pulling away as soon as they crested the tip, her breaths deep and haggard. She looked back down at Trip with an expression as telling as her actions.  
  
"Not responsive to my kisses huh?" Trip accused, immediately recalling the Vulcan's earlier statement.  
  
He rose in pursuit, but she shot him a look back that conveyed her desperation, stopping his advance. Though he knew the truth, T'Pol knew that she had to remain steadfast.  
  
"Charles," she pleaded, "if you truly love me as much as you say you do, then you will understand why we cannot be. Why I must leave."  
  
He was once again captured by her gaze, a mix of desire and fear. The passion that she had just conveyed was more telling than any words she could ever speak. She could give him what he wanted, capable of emotions, passions and desires. But she wouldn't be the woman he loved, wouldn't be the Vulcan he knew.  
  
Trip conceded, realizing that he could never ask her to give up the very thing that made her who she was, her heritage. He raised his arm, extending his hand out in the traditional Vulcan parting. "Dif-tor heh smusma, T'Pol."  
  
T'Pol stepped closer, mimicking his actions; their fingers were inches from each other but miles apart. "Peace and long life, Charles."  
  
She wanted to stay there longer, to lace her fingers between his. But she fought her emotions, quickly snatching her arm back from Trip's. T'Pol clasped her hands behind her back, closed her eyes, turned and walked away.  
  
Trip just watched in anguish as the love of his life faded into the Vulcan sunset.  
  
~FINIS~  
  
A/N: First I would like to apologize for the lengthy delay in completing this story. The point of this story was to be a foil of 'A Tryst for Two' with one being mostly from T'Pol's prospective and the other (this one) from Trip's. I wanted to show the positive and negative's of a relationship between my two fav ENT character's Trip and T'Pol. I thank all of y'all for my patience. I hope to crank out another one in time for the contest, we'll see.  
  
Vandiver49 


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